


long drive home

by Larkel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Relationship, based on stunning fanart by taterdraws, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkel/pseuds/Larkel
Summary: it's a long drive home but Enjolras is Not Sleepy Grantaire!
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	long drive home

**Author's Note:**

> based on this absolutely gorgeous piece of art: https://taterdraws.tumblr.com/post/173300995255/road-trip-or-a-long-drive-home-or-something-like by @taterdraws on tumblr.  
> Got inspired and wrote this in the middle of the night as a break from an essay and my other fic. So like. it's not good but I hope you like it <3

It had been a somewhat chaotic decision, but then that was hardly a surprise considering the circumstances of making it. There were certain combinations of people within Les Amis, the student activist group Grantaire had allowed Bossuet to drag him along to in first year and for various complicated reasons had been going to every free Thursday he had had in the three years since then. There were certain combinations that, left to their own devices, would result in fairly predictable outcomes; or in this case, predictably unpredictable. You see, a hang out that involved, say, Joly, Jehan and Combeferre, and maybe someone impressionable like Marius, would inevitably end up on the topic of ghosts or aliens or cryptids and, on some memorable occasions, fuelled by god knows what substances, would end up in either a haunted mansion or the woods at three am, hunting Bigfoot and screaming a lot. A group made up of people such as Cosette, Bahorel, Feuilly, and maybe someone impressionable, like Marius, invariably ended up creating something. Sometimes they baked cakes. Sometimes they built houses. But that’s another story. The group in question, by far the most dangerous combination by most people’s estimations, was made up of Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre. Oh, and Marius. This group, by some kind of scientific law like the pull of gravity, or an upscaled chemical reaction, always, always, started fights. Although Enjolras would say that, to be more accurate, they always finished them.

Enjolras himself was the main instigator. A 5’6 firecracker that would leap on anyone who uttered the words ‘Napoleon’ and ‘complex’ in the same sentence. Grantaire loved to point out that this rather proved the point, usually just before he got the legs of whatever chair he was swinging on kicked out from under him. He was the fuel of Enjolras’ only usually metaphorical fires, always insisting on prodding and poking at sore spots and tensions until Enjolras was a seething mess of pent up aggression that, luckily for Grantaire, he preferred to unleash on bigots and oppressors wherever he could find them. That’s where Courfeyrac came in. A boy who owned a pair of booty shorts with the words ‘drama monarch’ embroidered on the butt (a highly thoughtful gift from Jehan), Courfeyrac always had his phone out, either to film Enjolras kicking Grantaire off his chair, or to look up protests or events for them to storm when Enjolras needed to let off some steam. And then Marius, who was just so hyped to be included, would volunteer to bring snacks, and Combeferre, who wasn’t the kind of mom friend to stop them going, but rather the kind of mom friend to insist on driving them, would sigh, and get up to go and fetch the car.

All that to say, Grantaire was not in the least bit surprised to find himself sitting in the back of Ferre’s car on the way home from a May Day anti-capitalist protest… in Berlin. For the uninitiated, Berlin is around ten hours each way by car from Paris. On the way there, fuelled by adrenaline and Marius’ road trip snack supply, it hadn’t seemed like that far at all, and a day throwing molotov cocktails at the Band des Bundes had seemed well worth the journey. On the way back, however, with Marius’ nose bleeding from when some asshole had elbowed him in the face, and each of them exhausted from being on their feet all day, ten hours felt like a lifetime to be stuck in the car.

Grantaire surveyed the others from the back seat; Marius still holding Ferre’s handkerchief to his face, Ferre sat stoically behind the wheel, Courfeyrac riding shotgun and fiddling absently with the aux cord, and Enjolras, slumped next to Grantaire in the middle seat, half-heartedly scrolling through twitter with lidded eyes. The time on his phone read 23:47. They’d already been driving for hours, but Courf had calculated that they probably wouldn’t get back before dawn.  
“Maybe we should get an airb&b or something.” Grantaire suggested to the quiet car, “It’s probably not super safe for you to be driving if you’re anywhere near as tired as I am, Ferre. And none of us are gonna make our morning classes anyway.”  
“Speak for yourself.” Enjolras muttered.  
“I’d be up for staying over somewhere.” Courfeyrac perked up a little. Combeferre gave him a fond look, placing a hand on his knee. They really were adorable.  
“I feel totally fine actually. I’d rather just get us home.” He insisted.  
“How much cocaine have you had?” Grantaire deadpanned.  
“Enough.” Ferre replied, inscrutable as ever. Enjolras let out a stifled yawn. “You guys go ahead and get some sleep if you need to though.”  
“Was that aimed at me?” Enjolras squinted.  
“Obviously it was aimed at you.” Grantaire rolled his eyes.  
“I’m not tired.” He insisted.  
“We’re all tired.” Grantaire shook his head. “It’s not a slight on your character.”  
“I know it isn’t. I’m just not tired.”  
“You’re so weird.” Grantaire went back to staring out the window, a little hot and bothered and, as usual, not sure why, but not before catching Courf and Ferre’s shared, knowing grins. Grantaire scowled. He knew his crush on Enjolras must be pretty obvious, well, except of course to Enjolras himself, but anyway, they didn’t have to enjoy his misery so much. Suddenly, a large sign advertising a 24 hour service station caught his attention. “Hey guys, look.” He said, gesturing at the sign. “Can we stop and get some coffee? Just for us lowly tired people. Obviously Enjolras doesn’t need any.” He smirked. Enjolras glared at him, and Combeferre shot Courfeyrac another look. “You probably shouldn’t have any either Ferre.” Grantaire added with annoyance. “We all know what caffeine does to coke.”  
“We do?” Marius mumbled nasally through the handkerchief.  
“We need petrol anyway, so sure we can stop.” Ferre allowed, as they pulled off the motorway into the service station. “But if you try and stop me from getting coffee,” he said, pulling on the hand break and turning round to look Grantaire directly in the eye, “I will leave you here.” Enjolras laughed.  
“Fine by me. I will simply make a wonderful new life for myself here in…” Grantaire squinted at the large sign above the entrance, “…Bad Nenndorf.” He pronounced, haltingly.  
“Sounds delightful.” Enjolras teased, as they all clambered out of the car, “Look, they’ve even got a McDonalds.”  
“I know you’re joking but now I’m weighing up a service station with a McDonalds against another seven hours in the car with you…” Grantaire put on a face of mock confliction and pretended to weigh the options in his hands. Enjolras pouted.  
“Well there’ll be more room in the back without you.” He shot back.  
“More room for you to stretch out and take a nap?”  
“Children, please.” Courfeyrac interrupted. “Not until I’ve had some sugar.”  
“Well I guess we can stop fighting until you and Ferre have had a quickie. Didn’t have you pegged for a public bathroom kinda guy though, Ferre.” Grantaire grinned. Enjolras fake gagged.  
“I’m not the one who gets pegged.” Ferre replied impassively, effectively ending the conversation.  
“Ok.” Courfeyrac sighed, dragging a gaping Marius towards the cafe by the arm.  
“Please don’t make sex jokes about Ferre in front of me.” Enjolras whispered to Grantaire as they set off after the others. “That’s my father.” Grantaire snorted.  
“It’s a promise.”

Fuelled up and with enough caffeine between them to kill a horse, they piled back into the car and set off again. Marius, who had bought a tea that he didn’t drink because the steam hurt his nose, fell asleep about half an hour later.  
“He’s drooling.” Enjolras wrinkled his nose, leaning away from Marius. Grantaire, who already had his side pressed against the door, widened his eyes as Enjolras all but leant against him and he caught a whiff of the orange scented shampoo he used. Enjolras turned to look at him when he didn’t respond and, realising how close they were, leaned back a little, not much though.  
“Gross.” Grantaire supplied half-heartedly. Enjolras just looked at him with an analytical expression until Grantaire coughed uncomfortably and turned back to the window, squirming under Enjolras’ gaze, which he could still feel on his back.

“Will you put some music on, Courf?” Combeferre asked after a while. Courfeyrac’s head jerked up as he pulled back from the edge of sleep.  
“Yeah. Yeah, course.” He mumbled, fumbling for his phone.  
“Nothing too… intense.” Ferre requested. Courf just huffed out a laugh before sticking on a playlist he told them he had curated for late night study sessions in second year.  
“Chill but focused vibes.” He promised.  
“Sounds good.” Ferre smiled. A Death Cab for Cutie song that Grantaire was quite fond of started drifting through the car speakers.  
“Love this song.” Enjolras murmured, absently.  
“Who doesn’t.” Courf agreed. Grantaire lay back against the head rest, letting the song wash over him. He made a point, these days, of appreciating little moments like this. He smiled as the streetlights flashed past and Enjolras drummed his fingers against his seatbelt in time with the song.  
“What?” Enjolras asked him. Grantaire opened his eyes and smiled even wider. ‘I love you.’ He thought. ‘All of them.’ He mentally corrected himself.  
“You guys are nerds.” He said instead. “Late night study playlists.” He closed his eyes and leaned back again. “So glad I can’t relate.” He could almost feel Enjolras’ eye roll as he drifted off.

“If it’s trees again, I swear!” Grantaire heard Courfeyrac exclaim. He grunted and stretched, slowly coming to.  
“You woke up Grantaire! I told you to keep it down!” He heard Enjolras admonish him.  
“Sorry ‘Taire.” Courfeyrac apologised, sheepishly.  
“-’s fine.” He assured him, finally blinking his eyes open. “Wha-’s going on?” He asked.  
“Courf’s music was a bit too ‘chill’ so we’re playing eye spy instead.” Enjolras informed him, over-pronouncing the word ‘chill’ like it was foreign to him.  
“You slept for a couple of hours.” interjected Combeferre, “We’re in Belgium now.”  
“Oh. Cool.”  
“It’s Ferre’s turn. He said ’T’.” Enjolras continued.  
“And it’s not trees.” Ferre soothed. Courfeyrac hummed noncommittally in response.  
“Is it me?” Grantaire guessed.  
“Huh?” Courfeyrac looked back at him, confused. Ferre just smiled.  
“You got it.” He admitted. “’T’ for ‘Taire.”  
“That is so cheating!” - “Definitely an illegal move.” Courfeyrac and Enjolras exclaimed at the same time.  
“Got to keep it interesting somehow!” Ferre defended himself. “I can only see about ten different things!” It was true. Outside of the car itself, there was very little to see beyond the glowing puddles of tarmac under each blur of streetlamp.  
“Fine. You do one, ‘Taire.” Enjolras requested, aiming a sarcastic emphasis of his nickname at the back of Ferre’s head.  
“Hmm.” Grantaire thought for a moment. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with… ‘R’-“  
“Radio.” The three men said in unison. Grantaire frowned.  
“We’ve already had that one twice.” Enjolras explained, laughing.

The game petered out after a few more rounds and Grantaire resigned himself to scrolling through each of his social media apps until he ran out of new posts.  
“France.” Ferre announced eventually, gesturing towards the blue, starred sign that read the same.  
“Yay.” Courf let out a half hearted cheer.  
“That means, what? About two hours left or something?…” Ferre pondered. Grantaire turned to Enjolras who was slumped next to him, looking a little pale and drawn.  
“You ok?” Grantaire asked quietly, poking him gently in the side. Enjolras just nodded silently, and very unconvincingly. “Not tired are we?” Grantaire jibed. Enjolras frowned at him.  
“No.” He mumbled stubbornly.  
“Thought not.” Grantaire grinned. Enjolras smiled back, seemingly in spite of himself, and Grantaire’s heart fluttered as he suddenly realised how close their faces were. He quickly went back to his phone.

Not twenty minutes later though, Grantaire felt a soft, warm weight land with a light thud on his shoulder. He turned his head awkwardly to the side and felt heat rush into his cheeks as he took in Enjolras’ tousled, blond hair resting on his shoulder.  
“Awww!” Courf whisper-shouted, tapping Combeferre insistently on the shoulder.  
“What?” Ferre asked, glancing back. “Oh.” He smiled, catching a glimpse of Enjolras asleep on Grantaire before turning back to the road. Grantaire himself just blushed, looking helplessly at Courfeyrac.  
“What do I do?” He mouthed.  
“Just hold still while I take a picture!” Courf instructed as his pointed his phone camera at the pair. Unable to think of anything else he could do, Grantaire did as he was told, gazing down at Enjolras’ peaceful face. His slightly parted lips huffing out little breaths captivated Grantaire, and as the sun began to stream, weakly, through the windows, spilling across the sleepy band, Grantaire let his own heavy head rest on top of Enjolras’. Closing his eyes against Courf’s mischievous expression, Grantaire let himself drift off into sleep again, warmed by Enjolras’ body heat and the lingering flush in his face and across his chest. He felt Enjolras’ hand gripping at the sleeve of his hoodie just before he lost consciousness, and heard Courfeyrac’s coos and the snapping of more pictures only vaguely in his dreams.


End file.
